


I Was A Loser Just Like You

by lalagirl16



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Bisexuality, M/M, all the things you want in a fic, also you can pry literary rich from my cold dead hands, for mik's birthday, i wrote this several months ago, im really proud of this one though, in terms of my spicy bis career, it has suffering, not that anyone will get them yet, pre written in the scars, so this is post-rich route, there are be less single references in this...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 18:59:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15346443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalagirl16/pseuds/lalagirl16
Summary: Snapshots in the life of Richard Goranski. How he gets his Squip, suffers under it, gets it out, and learns to move on with the help of the most unlikely of friends.





	I Was A Loser Just Like You

“Watch it, shortie.”

In a swift movement, Richard Goranski’s face met the grimy floor of Middle Borough High School. They were well acquainted, Richard and the floor. The downside to being short and clumsy was tripping in the hallway, whether it be at the hand of bullies or his own error. This time, it was not his fault. Some asshole senior decided to make Richard his prey for whatever reason, whether it was an act of misplaced aggression or just a means to get some cheap entertainment by picking on someone lower on the high school food chain.

Richard gave a defeated sigh, hoisting himself up in a seated position with his flabby arms. His backpack had been open when he fell, and his papers had flown everywhere. He watched in horror as his classmates treaded mercilessly over his homework, DnD character sheets, and his poetry, leaving some covered in grimy footprints and others completely ripped in half. The mob of students subsided, and the tardy bell sounded through the hallway. Richard felt his throat close up at the realization that he was late to class. Not because his dad would give him shit about it -- he could care less if Richard even attended in the first place -- but because walking into class late meant more eyes on him and more reasons for teachers to dislike him.

Richard began to collect all the salvageable papers with a huff. When had his life gotten to the point where he preferred to be invisible, since it was the only way to avoid torment at the hands of assholes? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t care. As he picked up paper after paper, he filed his thoughts away in half-baked lines he could make into poetry later that night under his covers, in the light of his flashlight. He smiled a little bit at the promise of returning somewhere that felt safe later that night. He just had to get through two more periods. Richard blinked suddenly. A paper was being thrust in his face.

“Y-you dropped this,” a quivering voice said. Richard didn’t look up at the stranger. He didn’t want to respond. He didn’t want to be laughed at. He felt the stranger shift from foot to foot.

“It ripped,” Richard stated. “You can just throw it away.”

“Oh! Uh… sorry.” The stranger wasn’t leaving. Richard had yet to face them, but he could feel them still there, fidgeting awkwardly. They were probably waiting for him to stand up and collect the remaining papers. If that’s what it took for them to leave him alone… Richard stood up and turned around to face the stranger and… _oh._

He wasn’t gay or anything, but… the boy standing there was cute. He had curly brown hair that looked incredibly soft, like you could run your hands through it easily or grab it in handfuls. His grey-blue eyes were clear and bright. He had an impressive amount of freckles covering his face and neck, leaving Richard wondering if they were like that on his arms, legs, and back. He was tall, the bastard, though he looked as though he was trying to appear smaller, hunched over and retreating into his navy cardigan. He had a beautiful and slender body. But Richard wasn’t checking him out or anything, no, he was just very observant.

“Did you write this?” the boy asked softly. He was still holding Richard’s poem. The boy turned it around to show it to him, and _shit shit shit_ that was a personal one. He remembered writing in on the second day of school, when he was cornered in the hallway and beat up by some senior jocks because he had the audacity to ask them the way to the science classrooms. After that day, Richard tended to avoid “s” at all cost. The poem was about how he wondered sometimes whether any of those popular kids knew what it was like to be invisible, and if they did, why they would inflict that terrible fate upon others. Richard certainly knew that if he ever became popular (hah, yeah as if. The hypothetical to end all hypotheticals), he would never make another kid feel scared and invisible.

“It-it’s really good,” the boy continued. He looked very uncomfortable. Was that because he was talking to a loser like Richard or was that just how he was normally?

“It’s shit,” Richard spat out. “Just throw it out.” He turned away to head toward his English class, already trying to rid his mind of the encounter.

“W-w-w-wait!” the boy cried after him.

 

…

 

That wasn’t the last time Richard saw mystery boy, but it was the only time he talked to him. He knew he should be ignoring the boy but… there was something that drew Richard to him. Which didn’t make sense. There was nothing interesting or remarkable about the boy, yet Richard wanted to know more about him. Wanted to be around him. Wanted to keep looking at him like a creep in the hallway. What was going on with him?

About two weeks later, he learned mystery boy’s name was Jeremy. Not because they shared a class or anyone told him, but through a bit of casual eavesdropping. Richard didn’t usually intend to watch Jeremy in the halls -- it just sort of happened. Jeremy had a monopoly on his attention whenever they were near each other. Richard just couldn’t understand.

Observing Jeremy on a near-daily basis told him a lot.

Observation Number One: Jeremy always looked uncomfortable -- it wasn’t a one-time thing during their brief and only encounter. Like Richard, he seemed pretty content to just skim the surface of high school, barely detected. He tended to stand a bit hunched over, not making eye contact with or talking to anyone. Oh yeah, and that led to…

Observation Number Two: Jeremy had only one friend, and they were super close. _Super_ close. Gay close? Richard wasn’t sure. His friend had a tendency to call out “Jeremy!” through the hallways, like seeing his friend was the thing he got up in the morning for. (Richard could relate. Sometimes he would only go to school to spy on Jeremy, though he would never admit that to anyone, least of all himself.) The two would touch a lot. Headphones kid also made Jeremy look more relaxed, and, as far as Richard had observed, was the only one Jeremy didn’t stutter around.

Observation Number Three: Jeremy had next to no social skills, but he was definitely a looker. Sure, he didn’t have a square jaw, any muscles, or a male-model-esque physique found on people like Jake Dillinger, but that didn’t matter. Because Jeremy was beautiful. That wasn’t Richard having gay thoughts -- it was an objective fact. His face, though covered in acne, was delicately pale and smooth-looking. His hair was as soft, free, and unpredictable as clouds. His arms and legs were slender and almost feminine in their build. He had heard Brooke Lohst tell Chloe Valentine that he had a cute butt, to which Chloe responded by reminding her “ _Gross, Brooke. He’s a loser.”_

Observation Number Four: Jeremy was never going to notice him.

 

…

 

Jeremy’s friend came to school the first day back from winter break with a new gay pride patch on his hoodie. Richard stared at his pills, wondering.

 

…

 

“Psst. Short-ass.”

A senior girl was talking. But probably not to him. People didn’t tend to notice him at all anymore unless he inconvenienced them first.

“What are you fucking deaf? I’m talking to you, midget.”

Richard felt someone grab his backpack from behind and whirl him around. He was instantly met with a full view of the girl’s boobs. Not because he was looking, but that was unfortunately where his eye level was on a 5’10” girl in crazy high heels. He quickly looked down, not wanting to also be called a pervert.

“Eyes are up here, perv,” the girl said, putting her hand on her hip. Good god, not now, boner. “Get on your tippy -toes if you need to.”

“Fuck off,” Richard grumbled out, weakly.

“Trust me, nerd. You don’t want me to ‘fuck off’. I’m about to change your life,” she said. Richard froze, too petrified to move. He couldn’t exactly say “no” to this girl -- if Richard remembered correctly, she was the homecoming queen. Practically royalty by high school standards.

“What do you mean?” he replied dumbly.

“You know when I was an underclassman, I used to be just like you, Richard Goranski.” How the fuck did she know his name? Why the fuck why she telling him this? For the love of god, what was going on?

“Like me?”

“A nobody. A prude. A loser,” she spat out. “Just like you are.”

“Yeah, right,” he snapped back. “Bullshit.” He didn’t know what this girl was playing at, but it was bullshit. There was no way to go from complete nobody to mega-popular in less than two years. It was impossible.

“It’s not bullshit,” she insisted. “I just got a little bit of… help. I’ve been keeping an eye on you for a while, Richard. It would be easy for you to upgrade your social standing. No one even notices you now. Especially not that boy you’re so horny for.”

“I’m not… I’m not gay,” Richard said. He didn’t know why that was what he decided to focus on.

“It can fix you.”

“What can fix me?” The girl pulled him in closer, looking around for eavesdroppers. Finding none, she began her pitch.

“It’s called a SQUIP.”

 

…

 

He saw Jeremy at the GameStop in the mall, hugging his best friend enthusiastically. Richard stared at the pill in his hand, wondering.

 

…

 

“Ow! Fuck, did you just _shock_ me?”

**_I told you to stop staring at Jeremy Heere._ **

Richard’s first observation about the SQUIP -- it didn’t take “no” for an answer. There was only a week of school left, so it was only regulating little things about his behavior to save him from unnecessary embarrassment, but it assured him that once summer began, they would get to work. It promised to make him someone entirely new, someone who mattered. Someone cool. **_You won’t be_** **_able to recognize yourself once I’m done with you._** That was alright with Richard.

The SQUIP was true to its word. The first day of summer rolled around, and it made him get up at the crack of dawn and throw out every piece of clothing in his closet. Even his socks and boxers.

“What wrong with my boxers?” he asked aloud. “They’re underneath my clothes. Who’s gonna know?”

**_The popular girls you will eventually sleep with if you take my advice. However, if you are going to argue every instruction I give, you shouldn’t bother._ **

Richard added all his boxers to the trash pile. Barely anything from the closet was salvaged. Then the SQUIP prompted him to steal all of his dad’s beer money and head to the mall. Richard was on autopilot most of the time as the SQUIP told him what to buy. He was a bit skeptical of the tank tops, eyeing his flabby arms. **_That comes later. One thing at a time._ **

He left the store with several bags of clothing. Not enough to replace his whole wardrobe, but enough to make a bus ride awkward. (They took up two whole seats, earning him some glares.)

The next day, he was instructed to use the rest of the money to get a haircut. **_It is doubtful anyone even remembers you,_** the SQUIP reasoned. **_But regardless, a cooler haircut will make you unrecognizable to anyone who might._** A cooler hairstyle apparently meant dying a bright red streak through it and purchasing a lot of hair gel. When he got home that day, he spent a long time looking in the mirror. He realized he couldn’t remember that last time he was pleased with how he looked.

The SQUIP changed a lot of things. It didn’t find many of Richard’s hobbies to be “chill”. He gave up most things with little hesitation, but insisted that it let him keep writing poetry. After all, no one ever had to know about it, right? The SQUIP only relented when Richard promised to stop masterbating. **_You won’t need to for much longer, anyway._ **

It changed his music taste. It changed his diet. It changed his demeanor, telling his to turn sadness into anger. It even changed his name. **“** **_Richard” is a nerd name. You’re just “Rich” now._ ** It was a bit liberating to have a new name and a new look. The SQUIP was right -- he did look like a completely different person. After working out at the gym for three months, muscles were well on their way. His hair drew attention: he didn’t seem so short anymore. His lisp was gone. The SQUIP could control his body, which was freaky, but very helpful in the fact that it could help him talk normally. He was almost looking forward to the new school year at the end of August.

The SQUIP was the best thing that ever happened to Rich.

 

…

 

Rich introduced himself to everyone as a new student. Everyone bought it. It would have been a little depressing if he didn’t know his life was about to get a hell of a lot better. It didn’t matter that no one remembered Richard. He was just Rich now.

 

…

 

He saw Jeremy in the hall on the fourth day of school. He hadn’t gotten tan over the summer. He seemed to be perpetually pale. Rich was happy he hadn’t cut his hair at all during the break. It was still as long and wavy as it had been freshman year, and just as unkempt. The SQUIP shocked him.

“Fuck!” he yelled, not expecting it. He hadn’t been shocked in forever; he hardly ever questioned the SQUIP’s judgement anymore. Jake Dillinger, who he had become tentative acquaintances with, seeing as they shared a math class, raised an eyebrow at his outburst. **_Say you realized you forgot to bring a phone charger._** Rich did. Jake grinned and offered to lend his out for the day, which Rich enthusiastically accepted.

As he continued walking with Jake to math class, Rich thought at the SQUIP, _what was that for?_

 **_Lusting after the same sex is the quickest way to plummet to the bottom of the social food chain,_ ** it explained.

 _I’m not...lusting,_ Rich said. _I’m not gay._

**_Denial won’t get you anywhere, Rich. But I will. Normally in this type of situation, I would use optic nerve blocking, but I feel a lesson is in order here._ **

Rich stiffened at that. Lesson?

**_Tell Jake you have to go back for your earbuds._ **

“Go on without me, man,” Rich said. “I forgot my earbuds. No fucking way I’m gonna listen to Mr. Kennedy drone on for a hour.” Jake nodded at him and Rich turned around to talk toward his locker, awaiting further instructions. Jeremy has still there. He seemed to be having trouble with his new combination. His friend (maybe boyfriend?) with the headphones was nowhere to be found.

**_Push him against the lockers. Tell him he’s worthless._ **

Rich’s brain short-circuited. _What? No, I can’t do that. That’s bullying._

 **_Jeremy is a loser, Rich. You know how the food chain works, correct? You’re cool now. To work your way up, you must show your dominance over those below you. It’s not enough to be liked, you need to be_ ** **_feared._ **

Rich didn’t want this. Jeremy was so wonderful, and he already looked depressed enough as it was. He didn’t deserve to be hurt.

**_He’s not wonderful. Everything about Jeremy Heere is terrible. You should hate him. He looks just like you used to. Pathetic, nerdy, useless.._ **

Jeremy sighed, seeming to give up on trying to open the locker. Rich felt his legs move against his will, over to Jeremy.

His heart began to beat faster. It came from a mixture of _Jeremy_ , fear, confusion, _Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy._

“Ah!” the taller boy jumped back, startled by Rich’s sudden appearance. Rich could feel himself regain control of his body.

**_Push him. Yell at him._ **

Rich felt like crying. He hated feeling this way: feeling weak and vulnerable. The SQUIP had instructed him to channel any feelings of weakness into anger. He looked up at Jeremy, surveying every inch of him. _He’s disgusting,_ he told himself. _He deserves this for making me feel this way every time I see him._

_I’m sorry, Jeremy._

“Whatcha looking at, tall-ass?” Rich shoved Jeremy against the wall of lockers with all his might.

 

…

 

Observation Number One: Jeremy always looked uncomfortable. Unless he was around Rich. Around Rich, he was terrified.

Observation Number Two: Jeremy still had only one friend, and they were super close. That had to be punished. Rich occasionally picked on Jeremy’s friend too. He called them f*gs. The SQUIP was adamant about this.

Observation Number Three: Jeremy had next to no social skills, but he was definitely a looker. Maybe he wouldn’t be if Rich punched his teeth out.

Observation Number Four: Jeremy was never going to know Richard Goranski.

 

…

 

Sophomore year was a blur. He became best friends with Jake Dillinger. He slept with a myriad of beautiful, popular girls. He dated Brooke Lohst for a while before dropping her (as ordered by the SQUIP) after Chloe cheated on Jake, so they could bond over how much girls sucked. Everyone loved Rich. He was popular, powerful, and important. He should have been happy.

 

…

 

He should have been happy.

 

…

 

He was in the bathroom, going through his routine torture of Jeremy Heere when it happened.

“Are you a girl, Jeremy?” he roared, banging on the stall.

**_Tell Jeremy about SQUIPs._ **

_What? No, I’m not doing that,_ Rich thought at it as he did his business. Rich only sort-of noticed Jeremy come out of hiding as he continued to fight with the computer in his head.

**_He could use one. He’s a loser with ambition, who can’t achieve his goals on his own. Pitch them to him. Don’t you want him to succeed as you have?_ **

Rich did want Jeremy to succeed. That was why he couldn’t have a SQUIP. Jeremy was already a wonderful person. He didn’t deserve to be erased like the old Richard was.

The SQUIP shocked him. Rich didn’t yelp, but he flailed a bit sporadically. Jeremy tried to excuse himself, clearly freaked out.

“No, don’t move!” Rich yelled. Jeremy froze, eyes darting around. “You don’t remember me freshman year, do you.”

“You didn’t go here Freshman Year-”

“Yes, I did!” Rich said. “See? You just didn’t notice! Nobody did.” Rich cut himself off, horrified. The SQUIP had let his lisp slip through. Probably in case he thought about chickening out. It had happened a few times before, where Rich’s stupid old morality would hold him back, and the SQUIP would have to remind him who was _really_ in charge. Rich didn’t want Jeremy to get a SQUIP. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve any of the terrible things Rich did to him.

Rich missed Richard.

“Freshman year… I was a loser just like you.”

 

…

 

Rich wasn’t happy. He hadn’t been happy in a long time.

 

…

 

Rich tugged at his shirt and glanced around the party. He was sweating unbearably in the middle of the tight, jumping crowd. He didn’t even know why he was here. To be Jake’s wingman? He could handle himself. To socialize? Hell fucking no. Ever since his epiphany that the SQUIP could never truly make him happy, he hadn’t been in the mood. Free booze? No. His SQUIP wouldn’t let him touch it. So there he was, at a party, alone. At least when he was alone freshman year, he didn’t know what he was missing. He saw Jeremy enter the house after a bit, and witnessed him treat Brooke like garbage. His stomach churned when he realized he’d always treated Brooke like that too when they were dating. It wasn’t fair to her. All the SQUIP had succeeded in doing, really, was turning Richard into an asshole. And then there was Jeremy. _Jeremy._

Jeremy had a SQUIP of his own now. He wasn’t afraid of Rich anymore, at least, he didn’t show it if he was. They weren’t exactly friends, but Rich was allowed to speak to Jeremy on friendly terms now. That was what made Rich realize he was unhappy. He thought the only thing wrong with his life was the fact that he couldn’t truly talk to Jeremy, but now that he could… he realized it was fake. All of it was really fake. The person who was once Richard Goranksi was dead -- all that was left was a hollowed-out shell occupied by a super computer. It would happen to Jeremy too. They’d never be friends. They’d never be… anything more. Whatever that meant. God, Rich wished he could get drunk.

 _Or,_ he thought. _Even better. Get rid of the SQUIP._ The guy at Payless had told him that the only way to shut it off was with Mountain Dew Red. (“Not Code Red,” the seller had insisted. “That’s different.”) It was a long shot, but it was all Rich had left. He went around the party, begging desperately for Mountain Dew Red.

**_Stop it, Rich. You’re causing a scene. Furthermore, you do not want to get rid of me._ **

“Don’t tell me what I want!” Rich shot back out loud. Some of his classmates backed away.

_I’m done having other people tell me what I want._

 

…

 

Rich finally understood when he saw Jeremy sitting there laughing with Christine. Finally had a name for that feeling he’d been shoving down. Maybe that’s what finally set him over the edge. Maybe that’s why he dropped the match.

 

…

 

When he woke up in the hospital bed, the SQUIP was gone. He was in a full body cast to keep him from moving around. Jeremy was there too, passed out on the bed next to him. He was drooling a little. It was the most peaceful Rich had ever seen him. So, maybe it was a little creepy to watch Jeremy sleep, but it wasn’t like there was much else to do. And without a SQUIP to talk to, Rich was alone for the first time in over a year. He… he was alone. He was on his own again. He felt empty without the SQUIP. He didn’t miss it, but… there wasn’t anything left without it. Richard Goranski was nothing but a few broken pieces.

It was like that for the next few days. The only notable occurrence was that Jeremy’s friend, antisocial headphones kid, came in numerous times to sit by Jeremy’s side. He was kind enough to explain what happened at the school play to Rich. But beyond that, he made no attempts at conversation with his former bully. Which made sense. It still sucked though. Though on the bright side, watching the kid gaze gayly at his friend was entertainment enough. It almost kept him from choking up the guilt pooling in his stomach.

 

…

 

Jeremy’s voice was raspy when we woke up. His eyes were half-lidded and he was snuggled nicely underneath the covers. These things together reminded Rich of his epiphany at the party. The one that set him over the edge. He had a crush on Jeremy. Did that mean he was gay? No, Rich definitely enjoyed sleeping with girls. Then again… he certainly wouldn’t mind being the one that made Jeremy look that exhausted in bed. _...No shock. The SQUIP was gone._ This was all very very new. But also familiar. He supposed a lot of things would be like that now that the old Richard was back and there to stay. He was still going to go by Rich though, “Richard” sounded like the name of a 50-something guy trying to sell insurance over the phone.

Jeremy was staring at him. Not exactly in fear, but definitely in apprehension. He didn’t know what to expect from Rich, and he was waiting for him to break the ice. In that moment, Rich looked into the eyes of the boy who had stolen his heart freshman year and never given it back. The one he had taken the SQUIP for, and the one who saved him from it. If he wasn’t in a body cast, he wouldn’t have been able to restrain himself from flinging Jeremy into a huge hug. But at that moment, he was content to just reach out to the only person around him who could possibly understand his inner struggle.

“Feels like you’re missing a part of yourself, huh?”

 

…

 

It had taken a while for Jeremy to trust Rich. He understood that. But they were making progress. Dare he say, they were even friends. And he was at Jeremy’s house. In Jeremy’s bedroom. _Be still, my little bi heart,_ he thought. _We’re here to study._

“I’m so fucking stressed about finals,” Jeremy said. “They always have to make the final stretch before summer the hardest.”

“That’s why I brought my notes,” Rich said. “Only wish I didn’t miss a whole unit while in the hospital. But I took extra notes on wind patterns since you said they’re kicking your ass.” Rich passed him the paper, which was written extra neatly in his nicest, nerdiest handwriting. Jeremy nodded in agreement and pulled out more books and laid them out on the bed. Rich did the same.

It was hard to focus when he was sitting so close to Jeremy, their hands almost touching. Even Jeremy’s steady breaths were music to Rich’s ears, a reassurance that yes, this was really real. He was free of the SQUIP, studying with Jeremy Heere. A warm breeze rattled the window pane, bringing a tantalizing glimpse of the summer ahead. Getting rid of the SQUIP was the best thing that ever happened to him.

“Hey Rich… “ Jeremy spoke up after a while, sounding hesitant. He walked over to his desk, opened a drawer, and got something out.

“Yeah?”

“This might be kind of weird to ask but… do you recognize this?” And Jeremy handed him a slightly ripped piece of paper. Rich held his breath. His poem. The one Jeremy tried to return to him the first time they met. That seemed like lifetimes ago. He carefully took it from Jeremy with a shaking hand, reading the words of a quiet kid who longed for more, and dreamed of using popularity to bring other people up. Rich’s eyes misted. The cruel irony was not lost on him.

“You still have this,” Rich said, instead of the billion other things he wanted to say.

“So… it _is_ yours,” Jeremy breathed. “Holy shit. That was you. Freshman year. You wrote this, didn’t you?” Rich nodded, about to make the motion to crumple the poem into a ball and stay away from Jeremy for the rest of his life. “I recognized your handwriting. Just now in the notes. I-I’m not used to seeing it so… neat.” Rich flushed and looked away, suddenly finding the wall very interesting.

“Do you like it?” Rich asked.

“W-what?”

“The poem. Do you like it?”

“No. I’ve kept for 2 years because it smells nice,” Jeremy said with a roll of his eyes. “Of course I liked it. Man, I had no idea you-”

And Rich was kissing him. Even though his mind was screaming _bad idea bad idea._ He didn’t even know if Jeremy liked boys. Jeremy still flinched sometimes around him, so any sudden movements were discouraged. Rich was a loser without his SQUIP. But here Rich was, kissing him anyway. Over a goddamn poem.

When Rich pulled away, Jeremy was frozen in shock. He slowly touched his hand to his lips, as if reaffirming that Rich’s had, in fact, just been there. Rich was about ready to excuse himself when Jeremy’s dumb look morphed into a dumb grin, and his stupid face leaned forward to meet Rich’s halfway.

Observation Number One: Jeremy always looked uncomfortable. Even as they were making out. He didn’t have as much experience as Rich did, so he was a little sloppy, but it also made him vulnerable. Cute.

Observation Number Two: Jeremy had some close friends now, and Rich was one of them. Or would they be more than friends? Boyfriends? It didn’t matter. All he cared about right now were the lips biting at his neck.

Observation Number Three: Jeremy had next to no social skills, but he was definitely a looker. And as the kissing escalated, Rich amended his earlier statement about the inexperience by noting that Jeremy did know a thing or two about hickies.

Observation Number Four: Jeremy was never going to stop winning him over, every time. Rich wouldn’t have it any other way.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'd really appreciate any comments! I will go down with this ship.


End file.
